


Atop The TARDIS Wall

by aspermoth



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspermoth/pseuds/aspermoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linkara is just reading a comic when he hears a sound that he knows so well: <i>vworp! vworp!</i> He is needed by somebody very special indeed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atop The TARDIS Wall

It wasn't a special day, particularly: a December afternoon, six days left until Christmas, almost all the shopping done, the presents wrapped in shiny paper lying beneath the tree and snow thick on the ground outside like an extremely cold blanket. Linkara had settled himself down on the futon, his copy of _Showcase Presents: Booster Gold_ in hand, ready for a good long read, when he heard a sound. One that he knew very well.

 _Vworp! Vworp!_

For a brief glorious moment, his heart leapt. But then he pushed down the excitement. It couldn't be that. Liz had just turned on the television in another room that was showing _Doctor Who_ , he was sure of it.

Except...

Except that just ten minutes ago, wrapped up against the cold in gloves and scarves and boots, oh my, Iron Liz had gone out to the store.

He was alone in the house.

 _Then what the pluperfect hell was that?_

He leapt to his feet, dropped the comic book, limbs tingling with adrenaline, and threw himself through the door into the next room. There, he stopped dead, blinked once, twice, three times, unable to believe his eyes, unable to believe that the one thing he had dreamt over ever since he'd first seen an episode of Doctor Who was actually happening.

But it was.

It was the TARDIS. The TARDIS was standing in the middle of the apartment.

Linkara took a step forward, half-expecting It to vanish immediately, but nothing happened. Slowly he circled It, drinking in all the details like a man dying of thirst: the rough wooden sides, the metal sign on the door, the blue light on top still faintly glowing. This couldn't be real, could it?

He stopped pacing when he reached the door and took a deep breath. Trembling almost imperceptibly, skin pale and flesh cold, he reached out a hand and touched Its door, lightly brushing Its panels with the pad of his fingertips, half imagining that it was some kind of an illusion and he would pass right through. But no. It was solid. It was _real_.

He stepped forward, his heart fairly vibrating it was pounding so fast, and reached out again, both hands this time, pressing his palms against Its side, running his fingers across them, their grain rough against his skin, touching the cold metal of the "Free For Use Of Public" plaque, drinking in the sensation and the smells of wood stain and age and other worldliness that hung about It like a cloak.

 _It's real. The TARDIS is real and it's in my damn apartment._

He stepped back and took another look at It. Its windows were dark, no sign of life. Something had to have gone wrong. The Doctor had to be in trouble. And who better to help than he, Linkara, the man who defeated the _Star Trek_ comic, _Countdown_ , Mechakara, the Vorsoth, the Dolorem, and so many others?

Yet still he hesitated. Those were monsters of _his_ world, creatures he was used to. Whatever disaster lurked inside the TARDIS was beyond his world, beyond what he knew and understood. And, more importantly, the Doctor would be in there. _The_ Doctor. The real deal. Sweet Steven Seagal, this was almost worse than that time he met Wonder Woman and fought _Amazons Attack_ with her.

Linkara swallowed hard. This was no time to let fan-boy nerves get the better of him. The Doctor was in trouble and Linkara was the only man who could help.

He took a step forward. He took hold of the handle. He opened the door.


End file.
